You Raise Me Up
by LadyOfTheFieryMoonlight
Summary: And there, suddenly before him on the dark mountain road was a figure.  A figure he had known.  A figure he had loved.  A figure he never thought he'd see again.    Set after Swan Song-No flames please!


((AN: Hello everybody! So this is pretty much my first supernatural fanfic so please be nice to me! I watched season five and six recently with my bestie and we both cried so freaking much…anyway this is sort of what we both thought could happen after the episode Swan Song if Sam came back. It's really really sad so don't say I didn't warn you lol! It's a songfic to You Raise Me Up by Josh Groban which I think is a really really beautiful song that makes me totally think of Dean and Sam whenever I hear it and their beautiful relationship. THIS IS NOT SLASH, though. Not that there's anything wrong with slash, it's just that this isn't. Anyway, the song is awesome! XD And it also is the theme song for the most WONDERFUL anime ever, RomeoxJuliet! Please please please don't flame me, because what you guys don't understand is that it really hurts my self esteem as a writer and it's just really hurtful. I'm NEW guys! By the way, if you like this, can you please check out my Buffy fic that I wrote? Nobody's reviewed yet, which makes me really depressed because I've been working so hard on it. Xander/Willow FOREVER!))

You Raise Me Up

By ladyofthefierymoonlight

It was a dark and stormy night. The sky bled ominously into the gravelly back mountain road (it was raining). Dean rested within his beloved Impala, driving leisurely down the road at a dangerously high velocity, trying to forget the raw, agonizing, all-consuming, unbearable, unbridled, tormenting agony that had wormed into his heart and had torn and gnawed at his fragile spirit. The alcohol was starting to set in, relaxing him, though it dulled his internal and external pain (because he's been getting into fights and is always in pain from his wounds that he suffers from their blows because he's always on the losing side not having the spirit and drive to fight and he's always outnumbered. His spirit to fight died with Sam). _Oh Sammy…_ _SAMMYYYYYYYYYYY! _

A brilliant, blinding flash of bluish-white light which crackled with electric brilliance shown out radiantly from the shining, wet road. It momentarily stunned and blinded Dean. And there, suddenly before him on the cold, dark, shadowy mountain road was a figure. A figure he had known. A figure he had loved. A figure he never thought he'd see again. And yet, it was too late to stop. He slammed his molten-golden-brown-clad-foot against the brake, throwing all of his will for his Sammy to live into his thrust. The wheel jerked to the side, and the Impala spiraled down the road furiously out of control. The tall redwood trees at his right loomed menacingly, unfeeling, and apathetically over them. It was like something out of a nightmare. It was hellish (and he would know, because he had been there). A loud crunching noise echoed through the still, stormy night. Ruby crimson red liquid splattered against the windshield, sickeningly fat drops cascaded across the broken shards of shattered glass, which had thrust (because of the force of the crash) into Jean's fragile breast, the shard lodging itself into his lungs. The car finally met its final resting place against Sam's body. A strange glow was emanating from Sam. A glow of utter goodness, and yet it was also a dying glow, as it faded fast out of existence in the midnight black night.

Meanwhile, the Dean tried desperately to control the careening vehicle, though it was in vain. It was too late. It had always been too late. For fate had decreed it so. The strong, powerful, metal body of the devastated Impala slammed into the body of one of the looming redwood trees, penetrating and ravishing the delicate dark chocolate reddish-brown bark of the tree. Leaves floated down softly from the tree's canopy, enveloping the scene in vibrant emerald tears, as if mourning the demise of such a faithful steed and his rider.

A soft voice wafted from the battered radio, singing softly, "I'm a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride, and I'm wanted, dead or alive." (It was strangely fitting.)

A low moan rang out from the softly glowing body of the rider's fallen brother. _Sammy!_ Even though his lungs were on fire, Dean somehow managed to pry open the ravaged, broken door of his beloved baby. He fell with a sickening splurt in the mud beside the car, glass cutting into his already ravaged flesh. He had had to rip his leg from the windshield of the car, which had gone through the glass with the violent force of the impact of the Impala. With a sickening realization, he realized that it was most likely broken, or at least sprained, as it was sticking out at an impossible angle. _Broken, then…_ The agonizing pain from his wounded ribs that wasn't from his horrifically devastated ripped lung indicated that he had most likely broken most of his ribs too, on the side that had crashed against the side of the car from the impact of the Impala slamming against the wood of the once imposing tree. It wasn't imposing any longer. How could it be? One of his arms also looked to be terribly injured, the skin torn asunder and the fragile bone of his wrist broken. Using his one good arm, that hadn't been injured, except for maybe a finger, he creeped across the soaking earth, to the gravelly pavement of the mountain road, where his knew that his brother, his _SAMMY_, lay fallen, wounded and bleeding on the unforgiving pavement.

As he reached the body of his brother, Dean pulled himself to Sam's face, cradling his form against his muscled chest, limpid tears falling from his stormy emerald-green orbs, across his scratched and bloody face, mingling with the crimson blood which flowed from the cuts.

"Oh, Sammy," Dean cried into the night, cradling his brother's fallen form onto himself. Sam had suffered far worse injuries than Dean, barely clinging to this life. Blood poured from his soft, rosy lips as Dean's injured brother gurgled from the wet crimson in his throat. Dean leaned forward, his hand worming up his brother's form until it reached Sam's face, wiping the red fluid from his pale lips. Sam drew a shaky, rattling, heaving breath.

A tragic voice echoed from the radio:

"When I am down and, oh my soul, so weary;  
When troubles come and my heart burdened be;  
Then, I am still and wait here in the silence,  
Until you come and sit awhile with me."

It ghosted through the wet, crying, mournful air to their heaving bodies, which clutched each other in their _agony._ Dean let out a heart breaking howl of utter anguish, the words fitting their situation so closely. Sam had always been there. He had always been there for Dean, whenever he had needed him. Sam had taken care of him, and he had always been there for Sam, defending him from his unrelenting childhood tormenters, even into adulthood, as Sam had matured into a fine young man. Even their differences seemed to fade in that bloody, ill-fated moment on the road, as they realized how, throughout their lives together, they truly completed one another, Sam making up for Deans repressed feelings and lack of intelligence, while Dean lightened Sam's dark, tormented heart with love, laughter, protection, and brotherly companionship. In that time when Sam had been at school and with his lover, Dean had missed their easy, if sometimes tumultuous but still passionate, friendship. But then Sam had returned to him, their brotherhood restored as they hunted the otherworldly creatures of the unknown darkness, together.

The strong, masculine voice of the singer sang out again into the night from the radio in the broken Impala:

"You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains;  
You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas;  
I am strong, when I am on your shoulders;  
You raise me up... To more than I can be."

It was true. Sam did inspire Dean to be more than he could be. With Sam's support, Dean could move mountains. He could do anything. _They _could do anything. And yet, it was this dark and rainy night, atop a glistening mountain road, that they would meet their tragic demise. Cold and dismal moonlight broke through the billowing clouds, shining down through the shining tears of the stormy night sky to their bloodstained forms.

The chorus played again:

"You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains;  
You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas;  
I am strong, when I am on your shoulders;  
You raise me up... To more than I can be."

Sam looked up to Dean, his fading hazel eyes with flecks of opalescent shimmering molten gold shining. There were no words. His broken body laid spread across Dean's form, and yet he had not the strength to move. Instead, he just let his brother cradle him, letting himself relish in the brotherly love that was bestowed upon him. It had been so long since he was held like this, and it felt so good to be loved, so inexplicably glorious after the never ending eternity in the cold, bitter, isolated clutches of the hell that had just released him for reasons unknown. His eyes drifted shut as he laid his head across his brother's ruined but still chiseled chest. His own wounds pained him, flashes of white-hot burning agony coursed through his torn veins. A gaping chasm spread from Sam's right pelvic bone to his left collarbone, right above his faintly beating heart that rested within his wounded, sculpted breast. The windshield wiper of Dean's beloved Impala was still lodged within his shoulder, fresh from having torn his flesh asunder, from when Sam had crashed against the windshield of the car. A gash bled crimson water from his forehead, dripping onto the wound on Dean's chest. Dean's own blood dripped in fat droplets onto Sam's head, his glorious and shimmering chestnut tresses matted with their blood. Their lifeblood mingled in twisting, waterlogged rivulets of pain. In this moment, they became truly one, clutching each other with shared blood, becoming one mass of flesh on the cold pavement. Would it really end this way?

The next verse played:

"There is no life - no life without its hunger;  
Each restless heart beats so imperfectly;  
But when you come and I am filled with wonder,  
Sometimes, I think I glimpse eternity."

Dean sang along softly, his fine tenor resounding through the wet and stormy night. A tragically weak grin excruciatingly split Sam's angel-bow shaped pale and rosy lips. He missed the days when Dean would sing to him, as a child and even when they were older. Childish songs when they were young, and Dean would sing to his little brother when he couldn't sleep at night from his terrible nightmares which ravaged and assaulted his sanity, and then classic rock hits as they both aged into fine young adults.

"_Dean,_" Sam murmured lowly against his brother's chest.

Both brothers' voices, including Dean's tenor and Sam's sexy baritone, melded together in a mellow and sweet harmony.

"You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains;  
You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas;  
I am strong, when I am on your shoulders;  
You raise me up... To more than I can be."

Their voices faded, and both acknowledged the bleak reality of their situation. Sam looked to his brother, to his horrific wounds, and knew that they must die this tragic night.

"Sammy…" Dean croaked, as he saw the dark realization cross his brother's visage. "I won't let you die!" Dean screamed to the heavens, but it was futile. His strong and muscular form slowly lowered his brother to the ground, pulling himself along the pavement, the shattered glass still lodged in his chest dragging cruelly across the gravelly road. _Scrape, Scrape, Scrape…_ The pain was excruciating in its agony, yet he must keep moving! For his _Sammy_! He reached the devastated Impala after a few agonizing minutes. Perhaps thankfully, the impact of the Impala slamming into the side of the broken redwood tree had ruptured the trunk of the demolished vehicle, spilling its contents across the rain-splattered road. The item that Dean desperately needed had fallen as well. It was their duffel bag. He knew that, in order to save Sam's life, he would need the medical equipment contained within this bag. He attached the bag to himself and began the slow and painful trek back to Sam.

Upon reaching his brother, Dean propped his quickly fading body against himself, opening the duffel and removing bandages and gauze, along with multiple healing salves and a needle and thread. Slowly, meticulously Dean began to cleanse his brother's gaping, bleeding wounds, before attempting to stitch up his wound with the needle and thread. Was it too late? '_Perhaps not_,' Dean thought as he continued frantically sewing his brother's cut. After he finished with this arduous task, the brother propped his brother up again, pressing soft cottony gauze against his treacherous wound, and wrapping the pure, snowy white bandages around his long torso. Dean knew that he was fading fast, but perhaps, maybe, his Sammy would survive this night. His idea seemed to be confirmed as Sam's glow momentarily started to brighten, his pure snowy skin radiating a shimmery glow which reflected in Dean's gaze.

'_He looks kinda like Edward Cullen,' _Dean thought wryly, a grin tugging at his mouth. And yet, his grin was not to last, because just as the glow started to grow stronger, it then began to fade again, and Dean noticed traces of crimson scarlet bleeding through the snowy white of the bandages. _No… Sammy…_

His eyes fell as he realized that they were both going to die this night. He looked into his brother's chocolaty eyes as they both came to this realization. Gentle, tragic smiles evolved onto their faces, and they softly sang out the last few lines of the song.

"You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains;  
You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas;  
I am strong, when I am on your shoulders;  
You raise me up... To more than I can be."

Tears streamed down their faces as they passed on, enfolded in each other's arms. They went limp, Dean folding over his fallen brother's form. They were gone.

A tall and muscular figure with midnight ebony black locks, in a long tan-ish khaki trench coat appeared suddenly in the still darkness, looking upon the tragic scene with his clear, crystalline orbs in despair. It was… Castiel… and he was too late. A single line of watery pain streamed from his eye as he gazed. The singer on the radio sang out the last line and Cas, having heard the beautiful song before, joined in, his light voice soft and pained, though sweet.

"You raise me up... To more than I can be."

He had truly loved them, he knew. The two who had stuck with him when he had lost his powers, who had fought side by side with him to save the doomed fate of the world. Who had stopped the Apocalypse at his lonely side. He sobbed heartbreakingly as he looked upon them, they who looked so peaceful in their eternal slumber. Why had he not arrived sooner, he despaired? If only he had arrived on time… The morning light shone from the eastern sky as the once fierce rain storm diminished and the once heavy, mounted, stormy grey clouds broke up. The sweet and gentle light that shone through brightly shimmered, heavenly as it shone softly across their sleeping faces. And, before his very eyes, twin forms, beautiful and shining in the light of the dawn, seemed to stand from their fallen forms, transparent and ethereal. They both looked over to him, and he realized that he was seeing the spirits of his now fallen comrades. They waved softly to their dear friend, contented smiles spread across their faces. Then, in what was truly a heavenly scene, the two began their ascent into the beautiful sunrise, hand in hand. The streams of shining light enveloped them, and Castiel realized that they were ascending into heaven, truly, in what was most likely their reward for all that they had done for the world in their short, though full lives. In the corner of his eye, he noticed a barren patch of soaking earth which was at the side of the road, close to the place where their empty shells no longer rested, as Cas realized that they too were fading, though not into the sky like their spirits. Instead, the bodies were just ever so slowly fading out of existence, no longer needed to carry Dean and Sam's pure souls. A grin began to glow on his face, as he realized that Dean and Sam were in a better place, and that they were finally together, as they would now be for all eternity. He waved his hand to the side of the road and, in the barren patch of soil, beautiful life began to grow. Higher and higher it grew, until blossoms began to be visible from the bush's leafy branches. The blossoms bloomed in bright shades of red and crimson, and yet there were also blooms of the purest white. Satisfied with the memorial he had created for their memories, Castiel nodded and turned, walking slowly away from what had once been a tragic scene, and now was a scene of love and hope.


End file.
